


Wide Open

by leiascully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Work Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 12:08:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4876222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You came and you cracked the case."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wide Open

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Season 7  
> A/N: For the person on tumblr who wanted Mulder going down on Scully while she wouldn't stop talking about a case.  
> Disclaimer: _The X-Files_ and all related characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Studios. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

Mulder knocked on the hotel room door and Scully opened it, wearing a towel. Her hair was still dripping onto her shoulders. 

"Can I come in?" he asked, still a little shy about the new parameters of their relationship. They had tried not to sleep together while they were on a case, but they couldn't keep their hands off each other, it seemed. Seven years of longing had eroded away their self-control. Scully seemed perfectly poised, though, with her towel sliding lower on her breasts, the tops of her thighs barely covered by the white terrycloth. She stood aside to let him enter the room. 

"I've been thinking about Groman," she said, just barely holding onto the towel. "He doesn't seem as if he's been in contact with the other suspects. How did he communicate with them?" 

"I don't know," Mulder said, distracted by the pale expanses of her skin. Water beaded on her collarbones and ran down between her breasts. There was gleam of moisture on her thighs. He crowded up close behind her and she leaned back against him, her hair leaving a damp spot on his t-shirt. 

She frowned, but not at him. "He must have been in communication with them," she said. "This was a sophisticated operation. He was in prison the entire time. I don't understand it."

"I don't either," he said, and then swallowed hard as she let go of the corners of her towel and let it slide down her body. She turned in his arms, wrapping her own arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. He bent willingly, his hands on her waist helping her balance as she stood on tiptoe. Her mouth was hot and the clean scent of her skin filled his nose. She walked backwards on legs that trembled a little, and pulled him down onto the bed with her. He kissed a path down her throat, following the tracks of the water droplets between her breasts and down her belly, lingering over the scars that marked her stomach. She was self-conscious about them, but he loved them. They were the medals she'd won for surviving. They both wore the marks of death's claws, but they had never surrendered. 

She tangled her fingers in his hair, gently guiding his head lower, encouraging him. She sighed happily as his lips brushed over her thighs. 

"Message in a bottle," she mused. "Morse code. Smoke signals."

"No, no, and no," he murmured against her inner thigh, nipping at her tender skin. She shivered, stroking his head. 

"Telegraph line," she suggested.

"Definitely not," he said, moving closer and closer until his nose brushed the curls between her legs, a slightly darker shade than her hair. He always thought of autumn: the fire of leaves changing, the rich earthy perfume of her. She lifted her hips slightly as he lingered, and he delighted in her impatience. Scully wanted him, and she always let him know it, as if years of keeping secrets had made her bold. He teased her folds apart with one fingertip, stroking the soft skin, testing her readiness. She was wet, and it wasn't water from the shower. He touched his finger to his lip and tasted her, savoring the salt tang of her. 

"What about a system of tunnels?" she asked. "A link to the outside world."

"Scully," he said, raising his head a little. "I'm a little busy." 

"I know," she said. "Keep going."

"Aye aye," he said, and bent his head again. Her thighs bracketed his face, narrowing his field of vision to the auburn glory of her cunt. He loved going down on her. There were always answers there: moans and sighs and the clutch of her fingers, and finally the tremor of her muscles. There was truth in the things they did in bed. They found each other out, no dissembling or saving face. He rubbed his face against her soft skin, as if he could mark her with the jut of his jaw, or leave his scent on her in some way. She moaned quietly, urging him on.

"There weren't any windows to speak of in the cell block," she said, and he half-listened, focused on slipping his fingers between her folds again. He grazed the hot knot of her clit, dipped briefly into the heat of her. She melted him; they were one, forged into unity by the fire between them. His tongue flicked out to touch her clit and she jumped. He held her hips down with one arm, settling into a steady rhythm, tongue swirling in slow circles over her clit and past it and back again. She tensed and relaxed under the restraint of his arm, her head tossing on the bed.

"What if he used some kind of system of mirrors?" she asked, but he didn't even try to respond. He was lost in the warm wet of her, in the taste of her, in the sight of her. She was laid open before him and she was beautiful. He sucked her clit into his mouth, flicking at it to make her squirm. She gasped and clutched at his hair. 

"Mirrors wouldn't work," she corrected herself. "No windows, guards and cameras in all the corridors. Maybe the food."

He hummed against her clit, half-irritated that she was still pondering the case rather than moaning his name over and over again, half-submerged in the wonder of her. All the years he had fantasized about her had been nothing compared to the real thing. It was cliché, but she was everything he'd hoped for and more. Being her partner had been enough and more than enough, but being in bed with her was something magical. He could feel his erection, trapped almost uncomfortably against the bed, grow harder and harder every time she opened her mouth to make a sound that wasn't related to Groman and his mysterious ways. 

"The food is terrible," she said, though her voice was getting choppier now, her sentences broken up by gasps. "People must get food from home. Maybe his contact on the outside is opening packages and putting messages into the food before it gets to the prison. Then Groman could just distribute the items as necessary, and everyone would think it was just another incidence of bartering."

He growled against the crease of her thigh this time, and she moaned, her fingers digging into his scalp as he licked roughly at her. 

"Mmm," she said. "Oh god, Mulder, right there."

He let his tongue flick faster, his arm slipping from over her hips to under her ass, propping her at a better angle.

"Not the food," she gasped. "Too complicated. Someone would have noticed."

He sucked harder at her clit and she moaned in a higher key, a desperate edge to her voice. He shifted his shoulders, angling his free hand so that he could reach her. He slid two fingertips into her, testing her, and she pushed her hips against his touch, encouraging him to go deeper. He eased both fingers into her, moaning against her clit at the melting heat of her. She was tight around him, her muscles tensing. He could feel the way she teetered on the edge.

"The library!" she gasped, and then moaned, a long ascending note that made his ears ring with desire. He thrust his fingers into her, licking almost frantically at her clit. He was grinding his hips helplessly against the bed in time to her moans. "The books he got through interlibrary loan! The messages were in the books. Ah!"

She came, her hips bucking against his face as he tried to hold her down. Her inner muscles fluttered around his fingers, pulling him deeper into her. She sighed and collapsed against the pillows, blowing a few wet strands of hair out of her face. 

"Your turn," she said with a wicked glint in her eye. 

"I must be good," he said, sliding up the bed to lie next to her. She tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants, easing her hands inside the fabric to caress his cock. "You came and you cracked the case."

"That's the power of good communication," she murmured, kissing him. He pressed closer to her, thrusting his tongue gently against hers as her lips parted. She seemed to enjoy tasting herself on his mouth, which sent a frisson through his whole body. 

"You and me," he said. "We've got that unspoken communication."

"Yeah," she said. "Let's see if I can't render you speechless."

Oh, she could, he knew, and she would, and she did, and they went up in flames together.


End file.
